Memoirs of a Love Child
by redex
Summary: The life of a adopted child of Kai and Takao, takes place after "Perfection", but understandable without reading afore mentioned fic. [oneshot]


Sort of a sequel to Perfection, though you needent read that to understand this, this is the daughter mentioned in that fic's point of view rather generally about life in her household. Just drabbling, but some people wanted another chapter so they might find this interesting. I may add more later, as inspiration strikes.

**Disclaimer**: Red doesn't own Beyblade.

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**Memoirs of a Love Child**

By Red

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Yes, I have two fathers. Everyone finds out sooner or later, and when I was little I didn't bother to try and hide the fact, so I might as well tell everyone now.   
  
The first question most people ask is: "Which do you refer to as a father figure?" It's really not that hard an answer, simply enough, Kai was always the one who answered the title, but Takao never begrudged him it. The assumption that most people take from this is that somehow Takao is more feminine than Kai. Personally, I find that laughable, as Kai was always the one who made sure he always looked good, kept everything clean after one of Takao's and I's romps around the house, though he never cooked.   
  
The second question is usually "Do you miss having a mother figure?" Honestly, I cannot answer that one. I was very little when I was adopted by my fathers, and I cannot remember my mother. I was never told where she came from, or what she had done before leaving me at the orphanage. I suppose I must have suffered in some way, perhaps I was missing getting into mother's perfumes and powders, having a more knowledgeable someone to help me through puberty, or to just sit down and laugh with over a good female sitcom. If I hadn't lost anything by being raised by two men, there would be no purpose for a mother figure at all, would there?  
  
From then on, a conversation can turn anywhere, from religion to food to cars to classical music. Or quite often, deciding that there's really nothing interesting about me after all, the conversation ceases. It doesn't bother me, much. It happens to everyone. If it was well-known that I was a master cellist, everyone would ask about that, before loosing interest. Human nature.  
  
Kai and Takao decided that living in their city apartment after getting me wouldn't be a good idea, so we were all new when I arrived at my new home just outside the city where Kai worked, close to where Takao said he had grown up, and where his grandfather still lived. The house is large, and made of large trees in the classic Japanese fashion. It must have been an old lord's family's house, and I loved dancing around on the polished floors, slipping and sliding everywhere until Kai swept me up into his arms and gave me one of his kisses that meant "I love you and I don't want you to feel pain, but you've got to learn to learn from your mistakes, so go ahead, I won't stop you." I figured that out later, by the way. Back in those days when everything was new, then I just knew that that kiss meant he was licensing me to do whatever I wanted.   
  
All my memories before the age of 8 are of old wood. The old wood of our house, the old wood of Grandpa's dojo, the old wood of the big trees in the yard. Old wood beneath bare feet, the feel of old bark against grimy hands, the sound of kendo sticks, everything is fragmented in my mind.  
  
I'd spend my days with Takao at the dojo (which was always called Grandpa's Dojo in my mind, even though Takao's grandfather had passed away a long time ago) and we'd run home afterwards to catch Dad as he got home from work. We'd have a quiet, almost traditional supper together, Kai and Takao talking over my head, and occasionally asking me about my day. Then we'd sit around, coloring or watching television, just child's play. I have quite a few memories of climbing up into Daddy's lap while he worked at his desk in his office (a no-go zone officially, although unofficially I like to think Kai enjoyed my occasional distractions), and he'd tell me patiently, working around the difficult words and ideas, explaining the papers he was filling out. Sometimes it was about "board stuff", which I immediately assumed was "boring stuff", but was really work for BIOVOLT, of which my father was chair of the board. Sometimes it was about law, my daddy's chosen profession. And other times altogether, it was about a charity fund, a BBA function, or just home budgeting. It continues to amaze me how much one person can do in a lifetime, which is why I'm writing this. When Takao discovered where I had disappeared to, however, he would come in and whisk me away, apologizing for letting me get away, perhaps leaving a kiss for continued inspiration in my father, earning a giggle from me.   
  
Bedtime was a complicated affair, as any parent knows. Takao had the vast chore of getting me into pyjamas, getting my teeth brushed, supervising those last few dozen trips to the toilet, and making sure everything was exactly right. I remember spending a few nights staying up long after he had left me, tucked into my little bed, waiting for daddy to come in to kiss me goodnight. I'd wait expently, yawning and listening to the movement around me, until I heard his easily distinguished tread on the boards, and made myself fall slack, my eyes close and my breathing to even until I was sure I'd convince him that I was truly asleep. The screen would slide open with a swoooshing sound, and he's step onto the rugged floor, padding across to my bed and would lean over me for a while, the smell of his faded cologne and his presence making me nearly give myself away. He'd then lean down and give me a quick kiss on the forehead or the cheek and then leave, padding back out the way he came. Those kisses were reassurances that I would be able to sleep without any bad dreams, without any monsters coming out to get me.   
  
But when one of those monsters got past my magical, protective barrier, and I have a scary nightmare, I would always find myself curled up between the two of them in their bed.   
  
Usually Kai woke up as soon as I stepped into his room and would sweep me up to claim a space on the bed, nudging a sprawling Takao out of the centre of the bed.   
  
Now, I admire Takao, the second father, for giving up so much to take me into his heart. Even though he was the one who really wanted a child in the beginning, I was really attached to Kai. I spent most of my time with Takao, but Kai was always special. I admire Takao for putting up with being pushed off to one side sometimes, when I needed Kai, but he never put up a fuss, just grunted a bit and rolled over.

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Please feel free to review and tell me what you think. CC is always always welcome.


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